Meeting Eleanor
by RnbwXSprinkles
Summary: How did Zane Cobriana meet Eleanor Lyssia? What situation allowed them to meet without a fight, and not only that, but to trust each other enough that she became his spy?
1. Chapter 1

(Zane: 7

Anjay: 11)

Chapter 1: First Meeting

Zane looked back and forth between his mother and Anjay, sensing their anxiety and sorrow, a damp and musky tinge in the air that Zane could almost taste as well as feel.

Dead.

His father was dead. It was surreal and unbelievable enough that each time he remembered, it felt like a fact he knew from a history book about a different Cobra's life. It couldn't mean that his father who was weary but strong, grim but warm was never going to pick him up, laugh, hug him, comfort away nightmares when even Anjay and Sisal couldn't, watch him dance, help him train. Gone. And Anjay… Zane had seen the way Anjay had slumped against the wall in their room and cried when he'd had a moment away from their people, too much on his shoulders too soon and too sudden.

Zane looked between them one last time, vaguely aware that they were discussing Anjay's future of war and weariness and fear, before realizing he couldn't take it anymore. Ignoring the shouts from guards and family, Zane turned and ran through the market, ducking between his people and their brazenly colorful stalls. He knew they wouldn't stop him and that if he was followed, it would be only after a worrisome amount of time. They trusted him to stay safe on Serpiente land.

Zane left the market behind before sprinting through pathways between clusters of homes and across land cleared for farms. He didn't care about the underbrush catching on his clothes when he reached the forest, even when it took all of his reflexes to keep himself from falling when a vine wrapped around his ankles. He didn't stop until his lungs and muscles burned and he recognized the border that his father had set for him, carving an anleh in the wood and saying darkly, "If you pass this mark, you had better hope it's on your side."

Panting, Zane tumbled to his knees and pressed his fingers against the mark, picturing his father's face. The tree offered a welcomed sense of solidity when, exhausted from his flight, Zane slumped forward against it and rested his forehead against the rough bark. "A'le-anleh, father," Zane whispered past the lump of boiling hot tears seeping into his throat.

"What does that mean?"

Zane jumped and spun away from the tree in time to see a small figure drop down from the branches. Warm-blooded and too light to be a serpent, Zane didn't understand how he'd missed her or how she'd made it all the way here. Heart thudding, Zane shifted form just enough for his senses to heighten and to feel fangs heavy in his mouth, but not enough to let her know that he was ready for a fight unless she came close enough. "Who are you? How did you get here?" He asked when he finally found his voice.

She stepped closer. "I'm Eleanor." Zane thought for a moment that she must be incredibly stupid until her eyes widened and she froze. "You're a cobra."

"Yes." Zane hoped the simple response would make her run. Instead, she stepped forward again, ignoring Zane's warning hiss and prompting him to shift further so that black scales spread across his skin.

"Will you be my friend?"

"What?" Zane blinked, guard visibly down for a moment of shock that was replaced quickly with suspicion. Avians didn't make friends, that was impossible. They didn't have feelings or souls. They couldn't really care for someone. "We can't be friends. You… you're an _Avian_," he spat out the word like a curse," I should kill you. I'm supposed to kill you." He glared, hoping that if he looked fierce enough, she would go away of her own accord. He didn't have a knife on him, and biting her would put him close to any weapons she might have. Plus, Zane had never killed before, and he couldn't imagine it being a very nice situation, Avian or no.

Eleanor shook her head, though she of course seemed calm. Though he'd known enough to expect it, it still unnerved Zane that she could react so uncaring toward a threat on her own life. "No! We have to be friends," she insisted, "If we're friends, then our friends have to be nice to each other too. And then their friends will have to be nice to each other. And all the killing will stop. Especially your friends. They really have to listen to you because you're a prince."

Zane's brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed, his scales and fangs receding. "You really think that would work?"

"Isn't that how your friendships work?"

Zane thought about this for a moment. "Not really." If his friends wanted to fight amongst themselves, they did. If they didn't like each other, they made it known.

Eleanor cocked her head. "You're all very strange."

"We are not!" Zane replied hotly, "You are!"

Though Eleanor only blinked in response, Zane could feel the defensive derision she let off, though she dismissed it herself and moved on. "You still haven't told me what this means." She turned her back to him and traced the carving with a finger.

_Her back is turned. You're supposed to take the first chance you have with an avian. There's nothing wrong with taking them off-guard to keep you and your people safe_. Zane heard the thoughts in his own head, but ignored them, lightly and inconspicuously biting the inside of his lip. He took a breath, and, desperate to ignore the absurdity of the situation, clung to the distraction of explaining the mark. "The symbol means 'anleh.'"

"And what does that mean?" She turned back to him, and Zane relaxed, the guilty temptation from earlier gone.

"It means..." Zane trailed off to think, his thoughts hovering over the word 'everything' before discarding it. That wasn't quite right. "Fate," he finally settled with, "All of the powers in the entire world make up anleh."

There was a silence that was emptier and more impenetrable than it would have been if Eleanor had been one of his own people. It was as if when she didn't speak, revealing her thoughts, Eleanor ceased to exist. How did she speak without a soul anyway? Zane shifted his weight, backing away slightly, before she finally spoke, shattering the illusion of a heartless painting. "What do you mean by powers?"

Zane shrugged, relieved that her voice at least made her seem more real. "Gods, I guess. Life and death, nature, everything."

"That's really interesting." Her voice was serious, and she didn't smile, but a distance seemed to disappear at that moment, and Zane could tell she really meant it, and he could tell suddenly that she was happy. So he smiled for her. "I like you."

The admission puzzled him and something in that moment made him remember who and where they were. "You need to leave." If any of his people saw her, they would kill her.

She nodded without argument. "May I come back?"

"If you want." He couldn't very well stop her, after all. She was not one of his people and even if she were, it wasn't as though he could follow her around for her whole life and make sure she didn't. "But you should be careful. My people can hurt you easily," he added, slowly at first, but then more earnestly as he realized he cared enough that she stay safe, "Don't fly until you have to. We have archers."

Eleanor only smiled serenely and nodded before she was gone and the spot Zane stared at was nothing but shaking leaves. She hadn't even gone far enough for her heat to leave the spot when she popped back out from the canopy of leaves in the tree above him. "I forgot to ask. How old are you? And which cobra?"

"Seven. And," he hesitated before deciding that she would be able to figure it out anyway, especially knowing his age, "I'm Zane."

She nodded. "I'm seven as well. Fl—um, good-bye." With that, she was gone again.

She left him with a head full of confusion: What had she been about to say? How was it possible that he'd spoken to an Avian, actually enjoyed the conversation somewhat, and hadn't needed to fight? Still unable to fathom any of it moments later, Zane decided that there was simply nothing else to do but go home. He turned and began to walk, remembering why he had left in the first place and discovering that the conversation had helped him numb again the pain of his father's death. That meant that an Avian had comforted him. Suddenly, it seemed he wouldn't be surprised if he woke up the next day to the fires of Mehay swallowing up the earth.


	2. Chapter 2

Anjay: 20

Zane: 16

Chapter 2: Growing Up

"My brother is dead. I tried to kill your _princess_," Zane spat out the word like a curse, "last night."

Eleanor's face hardened. "And how did that go? Did you go for her back or just wait for her to be asleep?"

"No. Only one prince used such treachery yesterday," Zane snarled, "Very honorable."

"Honorable? You mean like jumping off a horse into a girl's bedroom?"

Zane let out a frustrated cry, slamming the side of his fist into the tree, glancing down at the anleh just below Eleanor's shoulders. She hadn't even reacted despite Zane's fist landing centimeters from her face. He let the rage course through him, debating the next retort on his tongue: something about the "honor" of the disgusting act that had been committed against his sister and her unborn child. But such arguments did nothing. He slumped forward. "I couldn't do it," he finally muttered, readdressing her original question.

"Clearly," she replied coldly, still angry with him.

He hardly noticed the bite in her voice as he continued. "There were no guards, and she was asleep, but I just couldn't bring the knife down. She shouted, and she looked so frightened, and she was cut. All I could think was 'did my brother do that?'"

"Probably. The snake killed her alistair."

Zane felt fury well up in him again at her derisive treatment of his brother's memory before he shoved it away and swallowed it down. "We're taking out anger out on each other." His voice was tired, and in it was a clear plea to forgive and forget while they could. As angry as he was, he was far more afraid of losing Eleanor's friendship. He cared for her.

"You tried to kill a fiteen-year-old girl who had nothing to do with your brother's death other than being his victim before yours." Eleanor's voice contained a surprising amount of heat and Zane flinched away, both surprised and struggling with guilt: guilt that he had tried as well as guilt that he had been unable to succeed. He had been unable to avenge his own brother simply because the enemy had a pretty face. He was such a fool!

"Someone who cheered when he died, I'm sure," Zane spoke, thinking again of his brother's death, reminding himself that she was cold and unfeeling though her skin was warm and her face was beautiful. He hated her.

Eleanor sighed. "And how many here would cheer if you put a knife into a Shardae? It's exactly the same thing."

Zane shook his head. He wouldn't see it that way. He couldn't. Not if he was going to do what he needed to do and become who he needed to be. "You forget that I couldn't do it," he reminded her, hoping to appease her so that they could move to a lighter topic.

"I'm done talking about this. I don't want to hear your grand plans about killing my people and royal family."

Zane grit his teeth, reminding himself that he wanted them both to get over this conversation with their friendship more or less intact. It was a fight that he hadn't even learned how to partake in until he'd met Eleanor, but he managed to remain silent until his anger faded. "Excellent. I'm done as well."

There was an awkward silence during which Zane felt himself soften again, remembering that this was Eleanor. This was the girl he'd met by this tree who'd childishly risked her life multiple times just so they could play tag among the tree roots and who'd given him mad dreams of peace reached without bloodshed. All of those dreams had died eventually, of course, but they had bonded him and Eleanor together nonetheless. "Should… I leave you?" He asked. He had softened, but he could tell that she had not.

She was silent before finally replying. "There's no need. I believe I should return to my own lands soon, anyway. I need to think."

Zane nodded and turned, hearing the small beat of wings as he moved to step forward. Suddenly, he turned back. "Eleanor?" he called, wondering if it would be too late. A sparrow perched on a branch. It was somewhat larger than usual, and Zane thought it gazed at him with more intelligence than it should have had. That, and the presence that he could still feel convinced him it was her. "A'le-anleh," he murmured to her. She stared for a moment longer before taking off, leaving behind the sound of a chirp and lightly rustled leaves.


	3. Chapter 3

Zane: 17

Chapter 3: Changes

"They're planning something." Zane paced back and forth beneath the trees, "They've been careful; not a single avian in sight."

"Zane." Her voice cut through the frenzy in his head and he halted abruptly.

"I'm frightened," He admitted, finally turning toward her. She was sitting on the thickest root, her head resting against the anleh.

"I can see that." Her voice was mild as she twirled her fingers idly through vines and grass, glancing up at him for only a moment. Zane sighed and sat next to her, moving further away the moment she tensed. She was becoming more like them—like the ghosts he saw in the fields. He had to sit farther away from her, move slower, gesture less, and at times he could even feel her anxiety when he paced. He swallowed. It was beginning to hurt him; to make him wonder…

"Are you frightened of me?" He raised his eyes to her own and could sense her answer even before she shook her head. He relaxed with a sigh, leaning against the tree as she spoke.

"I've reached the age where it's become even less acceptable to break the norms. Distance is more important because breaking that distance means something now. Thanks to the war, I'm without an Alistair, and I cannot afford to let people confuse friendly attentions for something else." She sighed. "Habits become comfortable quickly." Her voice was quiet and patient when she explained, and Zane only nodded, though he couldn't repress a shudder at the thought of such distance at all times. "But I have heard stories of you," she began again, her voice somewhat harder. "They're popping up all around the market. Not a scratch, not a flinch. Fearless and deadly. They call you a demon sometimes; not a prince, but a creature. "

There was something accusatory in her tone that made Zane look away and shift uncomfortably. "It's me or them. _My people_ or them. Would you rather I just lay down and died?" He felt defensive, and it could be heard in the tone of his voice—a tone that was almost vicious as he raised his eyes to meet hers again. Her expression did not change. Unlike the rest of her kind, she held no fear for a Cobra's gaze.

"No. That would solve nothing. There are two more heirs after you."

Her callous reasoning—all logic and no emotion, as if that were the only fault she found in such an idea—stunned Zane into a momentary silence. "And what if there weren't ? Would you have me lie down then?" The Tuuli Thea only had one heir, he reminded himself. One heir that he still couldn't bring himself to imagine killing. One damnably untouchable heir.

"Don't be ridiculous." Her voice finally softened and warmed, and Zane breathed more easily, realizing only then that he had nervously tangled his hand into a vine which he then shook loose.

"They're going to attack the palace."

The both fell silent, the hurried, guilty sentence hanging thick and heavy in the air between them. Their faces were painted by the leaves with splotches of green and yellow as they looked at each other, both shocked. He could tell that she had been considering telling him the whole time, but that she hadn't known that she could truly dare to do so. "That's—" he started, fishing for something, anything, to say. She cut him off.

"I'm only telling you because it's suicidal whether you're expecting them or not."

Zane swallowed and pushed it no further, knowing that the justification was for her own benefit rather than his. Instead, he asked, "When?"

"I don't know, but it will be soon." She looked away again, drawing one knee up beneath her skirt and resting her cheek on it, her hand busy tracing patterns through the grass again.

Silence fell, and he felt her conflict as if it were his own. She didn't regret it, but she knew that she should. He couldn't console her, but he could thank her. "Everyone who cannot fight will know to stay inside. The innocent will be safe. The only people who will be hurt will be the ones who would have had to fight anyway. My people will have you to thank for that although they can't know it."

"I'm not sure if you—they—are welcome."

Zane had opened his mouth to tell her that he understood, that he wouldn't presume to be welcome to it any time in the future. Instead, he straightened suddenly and looked out toward the trees. Eleanor mimicked him seconds later at the sound of someone moving through the underbrush. It was a nearly silent rustle and there was no aura of warmth reaching out to them. Serpiente. They would be in the clearing in seconds if their path didn't change.

"Go!" He whispered desperately, timing it with another rustle so that he would not be heard. He heard the flutter of wings as he spoke, and when he turned, she was already gone. He allowed himself to relax, both body and mind, mulling over what she had said as the steps came closer.

"Arami, I've been looking for you. Naga Charis wishes to speak with you."

Zane looked up at the sound of the voice. The white viper stood in a soldiers pose, and, like any other serpent, showed no signs of being upset that his charge had managed to slip his watch. Zane smiled. "Ailbhe. Thank you." He stood, brushing a blade of grass off of his shirt, and began the walk back toward the palace. The touch of Ailbhe's presence, flickering with curiosity a few steps behind him, caressed the air. Zane anticipated the question before it even came, just as they stepped back into the shade of the trees.

"If I may ask, who were you speaking with?" There was no suspicion in the viper's voice, and Zane closed his eyes for a moment at his luck that the guard had not heard a voice other than Zane's own.

"That clearing was the last place my father spoke with me—just me—before he died," Zane explained. He would let Ailbhe take from that what he would—probably the assumption that Zane had been confiding in ghosts—and no harm would be done. The silence immediately became peppered with an awkward regret.

"I'm sorry, sir."

Zane shook his head and flashed a short smile over his shoulder. "Don't be. And please feel free to call me Zane. Unless I'm angry," he added on with a grin and a small amount of laughter in his voice.

Glad that the moment of discomfort was over, Zane smiled as Ailbhe relaxed behind him and replied, "I will be sure to remember that."


	4. Chapter 4

Zane: 19

Chapter 4: Turning Tides

Zane stared up at the leaves, laying on his back in the clearing. The sun shone through the canopy, turning the air around them into a hazy twilight of green and yellow and seeping into and warming Zayn's skin. He closed his eyes for a moment and basked every bit as lazily as his serpent form, then turned his head to her and spoke. "You realize there are only two left of your royal family."

Eleanor turned her head as well, meeting his gaze. "And there are only three of yours." Her own eyes were tired and her body was loose and content whereas Zane could feel his metabolism quickening. It made him want to jump up, run home, dance, and walk through the market, but he had to take care of this first, so he kept himself still.

"Do you know what I could do with more spies in the keep?"

A small amount of irritation flickered behind her avian reserve and she looked away, back up at the ceiling of leaves. It wasn't the first time Zane had broached this topic. "Yes. I do. That's exactly why I won't be helping you get any."

Zane looked away as well and sighed, understanding her response, but needing her to help him do this. "I wouldn't end it with a blood bath. I'd let them surrender." He didn't see the point of ending a war with more blood if there was another way.

"They wouldn't." She sat up and crossed her arms, and Zane could feel her pulling back her emotions completely to hold back her agitation. He flinched. It felt like a punishment. All the same, he had to keep going. He was tired of fighting, he was tired of the killing, and he needed her help. "Their entire royal house would be dead," he argued, "What else could they do? Especially with a ring of spies—their own people—around me as I announce it."

There was a moment of silence during which Zane sat up as well, turning his head still to look at her, watching her reaction carefully. Her face was emotionless as a porcelain doll as she stared straight forward into the trees. It made him shudder and draw back himself, looking away. Finally, she spoke. "Even I wouldn't want to surrender."

Zane stood and paced, hands clasped behind his back. "The war would be over," he countered, his voice tightening with emotion, "The death of two hawks to keep alive countless others, countless _children_." He needed her to just look and _see_. She needed to just think and to see that this as the only way that the war could end.

"And being ruled by another family." Her voice made it clear that despite their friendship, she would not be willing to undergo such a change; to bow to him.

Zane shook his head. There was nothing for her to worry about. "You would all keep your way of life, forcing you with us would just cause more conflict as if the war hadn't even ended." The skirmishes in an integrated market would be a war in itself.

Eleanor hesitated, resting her head on her hand. "Still. There has to be another way. I grew up with Danica just as I grew up with you. I could never betray her so directly."

Zane watched her carefully before smiling triumphantly, that hesitation had been all he'd needed. It was time to give her another incentive. "Get me more spies, and I'll talk to the Mistari," he said simply. Now all he had to do was wait.

She paused, looking up at him. "You've had this whole conversation planned out, haven't you?"

Zane's smile widened into a grin and he stopped pacing, standing far enough away so that he didn't tower over her. "Of course."

She didn't grin back. Her expression remained thoughtful and somber as she asked, "So exactly which of those plans is the back-up?"

"Would you believe me if I said the first one?" He asked, his expression serious once more.

There was a pause, then finally, she nodded. The tension around her features melted, and Zane watched as she let out a slow breath. "… Yes."

His smile was back, and he sat down next to her. "Good."


	5. Chapter 5

Zane: 20

Chapter 5: The End of the Beginning

The sunlight seemed like a taunt as it flowed warmly through the leaves, shining off of glimmering particles of dust and dirt, lighting the way for cheerfully chattering birds. The world went on. Gregory Cobriana's ashes floated through the air high above them, and the world went on. It took all of his will to keep from gasping and falling to the ground with each slow, heavy step. His baby brother. The brother he'd promised peace. The brother whose cries he hadn't heard until too late. Dead.

He kept his head down against the smug sunlight, watching the leaves and grass beneath his feet instead. Though he couldn't see Eleanor, he felt her presence and the body heat she radiated. He stopped and did not look up; the light was now even brighter in the clearing, making him wince and want to hide away. A serpent wanting to hide from the sun. There could be no clearer sign that something was amiss. He could hear her rise quickly, unsettling the ground below her, and her voice was a soft, concerned breath as she said his name. Evidently, he was every bit as bad at hiding his emotions as he was meant to be.

"My brother is dead." His voice was heavy and flat and he finally fell, collapsing so that he was sitting on the ground with his legs crossed, elbows resting against his knees as he held himself up limply. He buried both of his hands in his hair and his eyes squeezed shut.

"Zane. I—" A hand rests on his shoulder, gentle and soft.

Saying it aloud made it hit home again, bringing back the image-

"He's gone."

-of his brother's broken, bleeding body-

"I'm so sorry." The hug was hesitant, awkward, and clearly tinged by her dislike of touch. He collapsed into it anyway, craving touch.

-and blood-stained grass.

At least he hadn't died alone.

"She stayed with him. She cried, and then sang to him for hours. I didn't even get to say good-bye." Zane's voice wavered, dangerously close to tears again as he remembered the mixed feelings of awe and anger. How dare she grieve for what she had caused; how dare she steal his brother's last moments from him?

"Who?"

"Danica Shardae," he revealed, his voice settling on wonder. The heir to the avian throne had gently sang his brother to death as if it were nothing more than sleep. She'd held his hand and soothed his brow and promised to never let go. It was no mercy killing, but it was a mercy in itself, and when Zane had finally been able to approach the body, he had seen peace upon his brother's face.

Eleanor pulled away. Zayn could sense her relief at the space between them before her shock rushed in instead. After that, the air buzzed only with contemplation as she sat in front of him, mirroring his position. "I'm less surprised than I should be. Danica has a good heart."

They were quiet for a long moment, as Zayn tried desperately to reconcile this new view of Danica Shardae with the conflicting knowledge he'd gathered throughout his entire lifetime. Despite their thoughts being separate and silent, the long pause was companionable and peaceful rather than awkward even it if was unfamiliar—it was an odd moment when Zane shut up completely, though as he grew and his duties grew with him, it was becoming more common.

"I'm going to the Mistari within the next year," Zane decided abruptly, his voice firm with determination, "As soon as possible and as soon as I can be certain that another plan can be effected immediately if something should go wrong. This war needs to end."

He rose his blood-red gaze to Eleanor's soft, honey brown, and the unspoken question was written as clearly across the cobra's face as anything else: _Will you help me? _She knew a well as he did what that other plan would be. He'd had his spies in place for a year, and they were loyal. If the Mistari were unable to shed light on any other way, the Tuuli Thea and her air would be dead within days of the failure.

Eleanor had every reason to back out now, and yet she only nodded, her expression more open than it had been in years. It was enough. Zane could feel in her the echo of his own determination as well as the love and nostalgia and loyalty that she left unlocked to float around them. He swallowed and smiled at her gently. It was a bittersweet and dangerous moment. Everything was going to change now. Hopefully dreams would come true rather than nightmares.

Before they nodded and said their good-byes; before Eleanor took wing, Zane hummed lightly the tune that the avian princess had sung to his brother. "What is it?" He asked.

Eleanor turned and blinked, almost looking startled for a moment before answering. "It's Hawksong."


End file.
